Christmas with Ron and Hermione
by diva.gonzo
Summary: Four tales of Four Christmas after the war ended. Two are sweet, two are lemon flavored fluff. Originally written for HP Ship weeks on Tumblr. Rated M for Coarse Language, adult situations, and Lemon fluff. Cover art graciously provided by the lovely and talented Anxiouspineapples.
1. Feint

_**Christmas 1998**_

* * *

><p>The fire crackled into the chilly room but the men didn't notice. Only the witch in the chair shivered under the heavy afghan she was huddled under. Warming charms only went so far in the slightly drafty room. The men were distracted from everything except the chess match before them. Harry tried desperately to regain any ground on the board but he was outmatched still by the tall ginger best mate across from him.<p>

"Ugh, why do I keep trying to beat you, playing this game? I've not won a match off of you in over a year."

"Robards said that you needed to think strategically rather than strictly on impulse and reaction. He's the one who took you down the last three times in training. You're balls on for a straight up duel, but you're total pants on planning a mission."

"That's why you're there – to pull my arse out of a jam when everything goes sideways."

"Hey, I had to learn, especially since Hermione can't help me study in the seminars."

Ron called out a move and watched his Rook take Harry's knight. There was a clatter on the board followed by the floor where the piece was flung off of the board. "Checkmate, Harry."

"Bloody hell, how did you do that?"

"I've been planning that for 10 moves. You should have seen it."

"Merlin, I'm sick of losing to you."

"Rubbish. I'll set the board up again."

"Oh come on, it's after Midnight. I didn't even get to give Ginny a snog goodnight. She's probably passed out in her bed and has been for hours."

Ron smirked. "Work comes first, you know that. You've busted my bollocks for weeks over that, when I was pining for Hermione."

"Yeah, and you still got to see her more often than I did."

"It's not my fault that Robards scheduled you for the last six weeks out in the field. You're gonna make Auror a full six months earlier than I am, from shadowing Kingsley this summer. You should be happy about it."

Harry pouted from his seat on the floor. "I missed Ginny, alright? I've barely had a moment with her since we worked through that row we had."

"And you still have other things to do first. Now, come on, we're playing another game."

"Rubbish. We'll play tomorrow. I'm knackered."

"Fine. Suit yourself. Just don't get barmy with me when you cock up the next training session."

Harry flashed a rude hand gesture behind his back while leaning down to give Hermione a kiss on her cheek. "Bloody hell woman, you're freezing. Why didn't you put another log on the fire tonight?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You would have been complaining it was a furnace in here if we had it warm enough for me. It's fine, really. It's just my hands and feet that are the worst."

Harry sighed sadly. "Well, since I'm leaving, go ahead and turn it into an oven now. I don't want you to catch a cold or something."

Hermione smiled at her brother. "I'll be fine. I'll be going to bed shortly anyway."

"Ugh. I don't want to know."

Hermione snorted. "Goodnight, Harry."

The couple watched him leave the parlor and stomp up the stairs in their shared brownstone in Islington, London. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned on her boyfriend who was putting away the chessboard into the side table.

"That was mean. You didn't have to do that, keeping him busy and away from her all evening."

Ron looked confused. "I have no bloody clue what you're talking about."

"That's a load of rubbish and you know it. You know they finally worked out their issues and Harry wanted some snogging time with Ginny and you kept him down here all night, away from her."

"She's my sister. I have to look out for her."

"Bollocks."

Ron stared at his girlfriend across the room. "Did you just – "

Hermione stood up from her chair, the afghan draping from her painfully thin frame. "You listen here, Ron Weasley. Your sister needed you last year while we were out helping Harry. Your sister needed you her first year. She doesn't need you protecting her from her boyfriend, especially by her brother."

"But Hermione," Ron whined. "Did you just curse?"

Hermione stood before her boyfriend with a mischievous look on her face. He shrunk back further from her intense gaze. "And if I did?" Her voice dropped 2 octaves in one sentence.

Ron rose to his knees and stayed in front of her with a look of adoration. "Do it again."

Hermione crossed her arms to emphasize what little bust she had. "What would make it worth my while?"

Ron ran his hands up her sleep trouser clad legs. He laid them on her hips before lifting the edge of her pyjama top and dropped a few kisses on her navel. "How's that for firsts?"

Hermione tapped her lips in a feeble attempt to hide the smirk. "So you're saying you will torment me if I use another epithet for you? Is this your way of seducing me tonight?"

"Please, Hermione, something." His expression changed to the one she loved above all else – dilated pupils, snog swollen lips and a growing rose shade to his skin.

She reached her hand down to his face. He shaved this morning after they shagged, since he had to go into work while she was on break from Hogwarts. She caressed his cheek, him leaning into her slightly chilled touch, and leaned in close, barely ghosting her lips across his face.

"Are you begging me to use coarse language for you?"

His hands wrapped further around her frame and groped her bum, grabbing two handfuls. "Merlin, yes, please!"

She kissed him with a purpose this time. "Shall I quote the letters I sent while I was in my room those cold nights, telling you how I had to fantasize about you while I was driven mad with desire for you?" She trailed desperate kisses across his face including a tender one on his forehead. "Shall I tell you how I had to take many midnight trips to the Prefect's bath just to slake the burn I have for you?"

Ron ran his hands up the back of her vest and jumper and felt the skin starting to warm under his touch.

"Do I need to recount to you all of those nights where my hands weren't enough?"

Ron moved the waistband of her sleep trousers and dropped a sloppy kiss on her abdomen. "Hermione," he growled.

"Or those mornings when I just couldn't fall asleep because you weren't there, snoring in my ears. Do I need to remind you that I was so exhausted that my thoughts drifted while in class to those nights when you would make love to me until we both fell asleep?"

Ron pulled his hands from her hips and ran them up her vest. "Fuck, you're not wearing a bra."

"Or shall I tell you about how randy I was after writing you those love letters? I know the guys occasionally took the mickey from you, but I had to write those words for you." Hermione threw her head back in reaction to Ron's ministrations. "Would you like to know what happened those mornings when I woke from a particularly vivid dream, only to find that you weren't there, making love to me?"

Ron lifted her jumper and vest. She was responsive to his touch and he needed more. He knelt taller and took one breast into his mouth.

"Oh Ron, please!" She pleaded through her quiet moaning.

"Talk to me. Tell me what you need," he growled with his mouth full. "Use those words you love to hear from me. I want to hear them from you."

Hermione pulled his face away from her chest. He saw that her eyes were dark, like a Cadbury Dark chocolate bar. Hermione leaned further down and captured his lips. Fire burned through them both. "Fuck me, please!" she whispered across his lips.

"Bloody hell, that's hot!"

She grinned back at him. "Only for you, my love."

Ron stood up and lifted the jumper and vest from her body. Gooseflesh stood out on her frame. He tore the clothes from his body and her eyes grew even wider. "You look – "

"Amazing," he finished. "But this just won't do." Ron ran his hands down the bare flesh of her body to the waistband of her flannel sleep trousers. "Sorry, love, but these have to go."

Ron sat back on the edge of the couch and pulled her between his splayed knees. His thumbs ran inside the waistband of her sleep trousers and the knickers underneath. He dropped more sloppy kisses on her skin and tasted the first drops of salt-laden perspiration on her skin. "Honey," He whispered into her skin. "You taste better than honey."

His hands grasped the band of her trousers and knickers and worked them down her legs. The aroma of her desire assailed him from his seat on the couch. He ignored his own needs for the moment, so he could have her skin to skin. Ron dropped more kisses on her slowly heating skin.

Hermione started shivering. "Are you cold?"

"Barely now."

Ron sat back just enough so she would have room on his lap. She sat down, straddling his legs. He immediately took a breast back into his mouth while the other hand worked further down her body. "Keep talking. Tell me more, the things that you didn't put into your love letters."

Hermione gave him a look before falling back into the bliss his fingers were providing. His fingers quit moving while she pondered his request. "Ron," she whined.

"Tell me of those lonely nights. I had plenty of mine too."

He wiggled one digit to get her attention. Hermione threw her head back at the sensations his ministrations were giving her. She opened her eyes and saw his filled with love and adoration. "You really want to know how much I missed you, don't you?"

Ron leaned forward to drop a gentle kiss upon her lips. "I do, really. Too many cold showers while at training on too many lonely nights. Cold water wanking is terrible."

Ron took his other hand from her bum and placed it on her scar covered chest. The burns healed but the nerves were still affected. He moved his hand over her heart and felt the tattoo under his fingertips.

"Cold showers never dampened my ardour for you. My wand was a pitiful substitute for you and my fingers are nowhere near as talented as yours are." Ron moved his hands gently once again. "I tried everything." Words were lost under his ministrations. "Only you can satisfy me, make me come." Hermione groaned out under her shuddering. She arched her back and moaned loud enough to be heard in the front foyer. Heavy breathing harmonized with the crackling from the fire.

Hermione came down from her high and laid her hands on Ron's bare chest. Under her fingertips she felt the almost invisible hairs there. She ran her fingers through the fine hair on his chest – ones that only showed when he was out in the sun working for his Mum. She ran her nails down his chest a second time and watched the slight red rows flourish under her fingertips. Hermione leaned in close, taking in the smell of the chocolate biscuits he had earlier in the evening. "But the worst was the cold. Blankets and jumpers and flannel are never enough. I was so cold in that bed, so cold without you there to make my blood boil."

She pressed her lips to his. He reacted immediately by grasping her hips. "I've not been warm since this morning. Warming charms only work so well. Only you can make me hot."

Hermione sat up from his lap, her feet hanging over the edge of the fabric couch. Her eyes were so dark and her lips were the color of elf made wine. "Please, I need you!"

Ron grinned like a gorm and adjusted himself for her benefit. She saw what he did for her. Lust crossed her face. Hermione moved and settled back onto his waiting lap. A sigh from her punctuated the parlor.

"Blimey, so fucking hot!"

Hermione rolled her hips. Ron threw his head back onto the top of the couch.

"Yeah, ride me like a broom."

Hermione opened her eyes at him to see the bliss on his face. "Your broom is the only one I want between my legs." She continued rolling her hips on his, grinding away. Quicker than she anticipated, she felt the coil in her core tighten to the breaking point. She moaned loud a second time, feeling the wave wash over her body.

"Blimey, you're on a roll tonight!" She rolled her hips again and he moaned louder. "You keep that up and we're going to be over right quick."

Hermione continued her actions and sped up her ministrations. "Ready for your mind blown?" Ron nodded frantically at her increased motions. He started thrusting his hips. It wouldn't be much longer. Hermione leaned in close and felt his hand working between their hot bodies. Her mortification would be worth it, for her knight.

"Been waiting for your cock all day."

"OhMerlinssaggybollocks!" Ron growled before grabbing her hips and shoving her onto hips twitching lap. "OhfuckHermione!"

Frantic panting reverberated around the room.

Ron opened his eyes while barely being able to see straight. "Blimey, what got into you tonight?"

Hermione looked at her lover through her half-lidded eyes. They were glassy through her lashes. "You just did, I reckon."

"Cheeky witch."

Hermione blushed at his question. "I dunno. I missed you so much this term that I thought that you'd want me to indulge you in such coarse language." She nudged further on his lap and laid her head on his still heaving chest. "I was serious. I was so cold in my room every night. I had a blazing fire going and wore flannels and jumpers to bed and it still wasn't enough."

Ron wrapped his long arms around her and felt the chill starting to creep back into her skin. "It's only a few months more and then you can sleep with me every night."

Hermione looked up from his chest and saw the truth written on his face. "Promise?"

Ron smiled, the one that he kept just for her. "We're getting married, someday. It's only a question of when. You already know that."

He felt her head move under his chin.

"Hey, ready for bed?"

"I don't think I could walk up those 2 flights of stairs to our bedroom. I seem to be worn out for some reason."

"Are you a witch or not?" Ron looked down at his lover in his arms. "Just kidding. I'll carry you up there."

"You'll do no such thing, Ronald Weasley." Hermione reached over to the side table and picked up her wand. "I'll be awake before Harry and Ginny so I'll clean in the morning."

"Bloody hell, it's one in the morning. How will you be awake before them?"

Hermione shrugged. "You know I can't sleep much past five much anymore."

"Barmy woman."

"Barmy for you. " Hermione snuggled into his arms. "Hold on tight. I'll apparated us upstairs."

Ron grinned while she twisted inside his embrace.

They landed with a plop on their bed on the second floor. "Impressive. Got shagged senseless and you can still apparated us to our bedroom. I knew you were smart."

Hermione slapped his arm. "Prat."

Ron leaned in and kissed her in reply. "But I'm your prat and that's how you want it."

"Merry Christmas to me!"


	2. Missing

Christmas 1999

Hermione stood at the sink and continued to wash dishes. Her Christmas evening was not the one she originally planned. Then again, her boyfriend was an Auror and had a duty to his job and career – and dark wizards and fiendish criminals never took a break for her life.

She washed the pot that the mashed potatoes were boiled in. Daddy was in the den watching some sports event going on – probably an Australian Football match or some ruddy American sport – while Mum was up in her bedroom pulling the linens from their bed.

This was the first Christmas she would be home with her parents in three years. The last one was during her sixth year when Ron broke her heart and she didn't have the courage to be anywhere around him or the rest of the Weasley family.

And yet it was also the last time, for her intent, that her family was mostly intact. The next summer, Dumbledore was dead, Voldemort was on the rise, Muggles were being murdered with impunity, and her family was under threat. Hermione made the drastic decision, after doing weeks, if not months, of research to get them out of the country and safely away from England.

On the lonely nights when they were on the run did she acutely feel lost without her parents. When Ron walked out, the pain was close to being unbearable. There were gaping holes missing in her heart and soul.

It was only after they defeated Voldemort and the remainder of his followers that the price of her decision came due – and paid it she had. Dad might have understood and forgiven her for her decision but the relationship with her Mum was acrimonious at best. Meals now were difficult affairs, mostly with her father as the peacemaker at times. Jean told her on more than one occasion that she didn't trust her daughter, not after what happened. Visits were short because her Mum would say something cruel and vicious and Hermione would leave, hiding the tears that only her Mum could bring out.

Hermione didn't blame her in the least for her attitude. It was a small price to pay for them to still be alive and in her life.

Ron was her comfort on those days she came home in a terrible mood. He loved her and would help her cope with the price she paid to keep her parents safe from harm. He helped mend the missing parts of her heart.

Footsteps above her head let her know that Mum was still in her life, not buried like Fred and the others. Her mum wasn't missing, at least physically. Stomping was a good penance for her actions, no matter how tiring or annoying Mum would get tonight.

This year was different, if only for the circumstances. Daddy invited her over for Christmas Eve since Ron was working nights at the Ministry as an apprentice Auror. Hermione had days off from her job and the thought of staying in their flat, alone at night, wasn't much comfort. There were too many sleepless nights crying into her pillow to cope with it being Christmas too.

She craved the company of her parents even if one of them didn't like her terribly much.

She could cope and deal with the stomping feet above her head. It was considerably better than the alternative she would have faced had she not sent them abroad for their own good.

Hermione turned off the water and laid the last pot in the drying rack. Out of respect for her parents, she let them dry naturally and not with magic. She didn't complain about washing dishes by hand since the hot soapy water felt good on her nerve damaged hands.

"So are you ready to serve up pudding?"

Hermione turned and offered her dad a sad smile. "Sure, I'll get it out of the refrigerator for you."

"Won't you have some with me?"

Hermione pulled the bowl of chocolate pudding out of the fridge and set it on the counter. She found a serving spoon to ladle it out into a dessert bowl for him. "I'll pass tonight. I'm still full from dinner."

"But you always have some when we come to visit you down in London?"

Hermione finished serving up her father a helping of the home made chocolate decadence before covering it back up to return to the refrigerator. "Ron's not here, that's why."

"Isn't he coming by later tonight?"

Hermione sighed further. "I hope so but sometimes their training schedule goes long and he's not home until in the morning."

"But it's Christmas Eve."

Hermione sighed once again. "It doesn't matter what day of the year it is. Ron knew that – I did too – when he signed on for the Auror program. This is part of it, being away from one another at night, weekends, days on end."

Robert Granger walked over to his daughter and enveloped her in a hug. "You miss him, I know."

Hermione snuggled into her father's hug. He was her shelter when life got too harsh – until Ron stepped into her life and saved it more times than she could count. Now that her parents were back in her life, she realized that she missed her parents more than she realized.

"I do, but he's doing what he wants and needs and I support him for it." Hermione tried to wipe her eyes and failed to hide the emotions from her father. She felt the kiss on her forehead rather than hearing anything from him. "I didn't tell him enough before we started dating, about believing in him and being encouraging. We didn't talk about the important stuff – just rowed about it." She sniffed again. "So I said once everything changed, I'd support and encourage him in any way I could. It hurts, him being away at night and dealing with the random calls, but this is what he wants and needs to do."

Robert pulled his daughter out of his embrace to see her fighting back tears.

"You're doing the right thing, even if it hurts so much. He'll be a better man for it."

Hermione plucked a facial tissue from the box on the countertop to wipe her eyes once again. "I know but I can't let him know how much I miss him, too. He'd quit in an instant if I told him I wanted him home at night." She blew her nose. "And he'd resent me for it, making him give up what he always wanted to do."

Robert laughed. "You don't see it, do you?"

Hermione looked at her father like he sprouted horns and a third eye.

"That man could pick up trash for a living and he'd never resent you. He might get angry at himself for not doing more, but he won't hold it against you, at least rationally."

Hermione laughed at his statement. "When have Ron and I ever been completely rational?"

"Oh, you're right, I forgot."

_Knock Knock_

Robert turned towards the door. "That's probably him now, I reckon. You tidy yourself so he doesn't think anything's remiss."

"Thanks, Daddy. I appreciate it."

He left the kitchen while she frantically cleaned her face and tried to hide what she was feeling.

Jean walked into the kitchen with a load of linens in her arms. "Was that a knock at the door?"

Hermione turned to her Mum and nodded. "Daddy went to see who it was and let them in. I hoped Ron could get off work early tonight."

Jean shrugged and left the room with the laundry in her arms. Hermione could only stare at where her Mum went. "Maybe later," she thought.

Robert returned with Ron in tow. "I have brought the son-in-law home to supper."

"Daddy!" Hermione blushed a fabulous shade of red. "Don't pressure him! He's not asked and I've not pushed, either."

Robert stepped out of the way to the young couple in his kitchen. "I think I'll go help your Mum some." He winked at the couple before leaving the kitchen.

Ron turned to his paramour standing before him. She looked sad like only Hermione could pull off. "You've been crying. Why?"

Hermione walked up to him and snuggled into his arms. "I was just missing you tonight, that's all."

"I'm here," he whispered before laying kisses on top of her head. He worked his way further down, to a nibble and a nip on her earlobes and across her neck. "I had to bribe Williamson to let me go home early. I've got to cover for him on New Year's Day but that's fine. I'd rather be home with you tonight."

Hermione turned her face up and offered a warming kiss for her lover. "But we're not home. We're here with my parents."

Ron reciprocated with a kiss that promised so much more once the Granger's were asleep. "Wherever you are is home for me."


	3. Cleansweep

Snow drifted along the windowsill of the flat in Muggle London. It was a full blown blizzard that blew in from Cornwall and blanketed most of lower England. But the couple in the third floor walkup flat didn't mind a bit. Bright lights showed through their window out into London.

Sunday mornings were the only guaranteed time off the engaged couple managed to share.

And yet, they were sharing Christmas Evening home together. The brunette witch in the kitchen sashayed to the music drifting from the Muggle radio she had in the kitchen while her fiancée was listening to the Wizarding wireless in the living room. Ron was listening to the replay of the Appleby-Exmoor Quidditch match from 1985. _A classic! _The announcer extolled right before the recast started.

The beef stew on the cooker was almost ready and so was the loaf of fresh bread in the oven. Hermione took her sister in law's advice to heart a few days after their world changed. Fleur was adamant when she told Hermione, _Make enough for six and that will be how you keep him content._

She listened and learned, with a few bumps in the road, between those cold desolate days during the War to now, decadent smells of home cooking to warm her hungry fiance's heart. Fleur had been right – _more than I originally gave her credit for! – _when she offered Hermione advice on those insomnia induced mornings at the Burrow.

"Hermione, I'm hungry. When can we eat?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in consternation. Sunday brunch with the Weasleys was never enough for Ron. It could be a ten course meal and he'd still be hungry at dinner time. The faint click of the radio told her that the match was finished and she needed to plate the stew for him. "It's ready now if you want to eat immediately."

Ron strode into their galley kitchen and took the heaping bowl of dinner from his lover's hands. He gave a peck on her cheek for his dinner and he returned to the living room. "I'll bring out some bread in a couple of minutes."

Ron waved from the couch before tucking into his ample serving of dinner.

Hermione removed the tray in the oven and was greeted with a delightful smell of fresh baked bread. She wouldn't tell him that her mother helped with the proofing of the bread – she only baked it this evening. _ Then again, I doubt he'll notice._

She ladled out a smaller helping for herself then cut three generous slices of the loaf before her. Crock butter was applied to the hot bread before she would hand over the pieces to him.

"Budge over, will you?" She asked while setting her bowl on the table. "That was a fast match."

"That's why it's a classic. Collins, the Exmoor seeker, saw the snitch almost immediately and it was a race for the win. The seekers chased that little blighter all over the stadium. The Appleby seeker, Erlich, some bloke they picked up from the continent, was on his thatch chasing both of them all over the stadium. It went on for about five minutes, just racing one another around the pitch. Collins didn't watch where he was going and ran into one of the goal poles near the ground and Erlich caught the snitch. It's fortunate for Collins that there were cushioning charms on the posts since 1927 otherwise he would have died from it, probably."

Hermione could only grin at his enthusiasm from a Quidditch match almost fifteen years old. She bit back the urge to fuss at him for waving his spoon around to demonstrate what he was talking about. It was another thing that she came to love about the man next to her.

"So yeah, that match gets replayed so often just to hear the commentators talk about those Cleansweep pros racing around the pitch. The commentary was as exciting as the broom race was."

"You miss playing Quidditch?" Hermione inquired before taking a bite of her stew.

Ron wiped the remnants of his meal out of the bowl with the heel of the bread he had. He stuffed the piece into his mouth and looked a little sad from her question.

Hermione waited for him to reply. Another piece of wisdom from Fleur helped her understand him better. _Be patient and let him talk. It'll be worth it, listening to him._ She ate another spoonful of dinner while anticipating his reply.

"Sometimes I do, but most of the time, nah. I was a better fan than a Keeper. Harry, he could have gone pro and been amazing. Look at Ginny and how much she's tearing up the pitch every week. Me? I couldn't keep my lunch down most days before a match." Ron stole a glance to his right. "It wasn't until someone helped me realize that there are more important things than Quidditch that the stress went away."

Ron leaned over and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. "If you stuck me on a pitch now, I'd have no problem. But I also have other things that are more interesting than quoting goal stats from 1990."

Hermione grinned back at him. "So what caught your attention now?"

Ron stood up and took the empty bowls from the table in front of them. "You give me two minutes and you'll find out."

Hermione watched him walk into their small kitchen and set the pots and dishes to scrub in the sink. The view was quite nice from where she was sitting.

"Is that a threat or a promise, Auror Weasley?"

Ron looked over his shoulder and winked at her.

"Merry Christmas to me," she thought to herself.


	4. Hamsteaks

_**Christmas Eve, 2001**_

"Hermione, I'm home!" Ron bellowed from inside the door to their small flat. It was early for him to get home – not quite 8pm – and he was famished. Training today wore him out and the paperwork was an avalanche too. But what he wanted was his wife, his beautiful and barmy wife of 3 months, to greet him with a snog and a grope. It'd been days since they had enough time for a leg over.

"Hermione!"

Ron threw his Auror cloak and jacket over the back of the sofa and went into their galley kitchen. It was small but functional for the two of them, at least for now. Later on, once they had money saved up, they could look to get either a larger flat in the city, or a cottage of their own.

But for now, the two bedroom flat around the corner from Harry's brownstone in Islington would suffice.

Ron saw a piece of inked parchment on their dining table.

_Ron:_

_Dinner is in the oven under a warming charm. I'm stuck at the office and probably won't get home until after you've gone to bed. _

_Hermione  
><em>

"It's Christmas Eve and she's stuck at the office. Can't they give her a break? It's not like she doesn't do the work of three people already!" Ron kicked the leg of the dinner table with the toe of his boot. It did nothing to quell the annoyance he had with the directorship at the Ministry. "Bloody fantastic. I'm sick of this rubbish!"

He grunted while opening the oven door. The smell of roasted ham and turnips turned his stomach on almost immediately. Ron pulled the roasting pan out of the oven and felt his mouth water almost immediately. It wasn't chicken but Hermione eventually learned how to cook a ham just how he liked it. The ham steaks were already cut off of the bone, leaving more on there for later. Another smell drifted out of the oven and he found the loaf of fresh baked bread, along with turnips, carrots and green beans for his meal.

"When was she home to do all of this?" Ron looked at the Muggle calendar on the wall and saw that it was a Monday. "Classes have been out for a week. Why is she stuck at the office? Only an emergency is that important and if there had been one, she'd have said something during the day today."

Ron took a ham steak and cut two slices of bread off of the loaf and shoved the hasty sandwich into his mouth. A dribble of glaze fell onto his shirt and stained it, next to his tie. "Blimey! Hermione's gonna kill me for staining another shirt."

He finished the sandwich before licking the grease off of his fingers and wiping the crumbs onto his trousers. "Might as well change and get comfortable on the couch."

_Merow_

Ron looked down and saw an evil orange furball weaving around his feet. "And I suppose you want some ham too, you fiend." Crookshanks continued to weave around his feet before reaching up along his trouser legs.

_Merow _

Crookshanks continued to weave around his feet in a display of gratuitous want.

"Well, it'll have to wait until I change into my sleep trousers and a jumper."

Ron pulled the buttons apart and had his shirt out of his trousers when he walked into their bedroom.

"I was wondering when you'd get in here," a sultry voice spoke from the bed.

Ron stopped and stared at the gorgeous witch in his bed.

"When did you get home?"

"About an hour ago, long enough to put those items under the warming charm for you."

"But your note said – "

Hermione waved her hand disdainfully. "Pshaw. I wanted to surprise you."

Ron pulled his dress shirt and vest off of his filled out body. "You certainly have, that's for certain."

Hermione sat up further in the bed, showing off the maroon satin robe. Just a hint of lace peeked out from the top and Ron hoped that there was more where he was being teased from. "Anytime you want to join me in here is fine by me."

Ron pulled the buckle of his belt and yanked down the uniform trousers. He took a step and tripped on the twill pants that were stuck on his boots.

Hermione chuckled from the bed. "You always do that."

Ron frowned at her quip. "And you always tell me off for it." He sat down hard on the floor to pull the zippers on the side of the regulation boots. "You know I hate these bloody things. They should be used for bludgeoning someone, not covering my feet."

"What can I say, I married a man who is part giant."

He flung the boots into the closet without a care in the world. "Finally!" He exclaimed. Ron stood and dropped the trousers to the floor.

"Please tell me you didn't wear that under your uniform today."

Ron looked at his pants and grinned. He had on silken Santa Claus boxers. "What? It's Christmas Eve. I thought you'd like that."

"Did I get those for you?"

"Well, yeah." Ron slid under the lifted covers to his still-chilled wife. "I wouldn't accept any woman buying me pants, now would I?"

"I hoped that wasn't a gag gift from George, or a Christmas gift from Harry and Ginny."

"Hardly." He leaned over and felt her cool lips under his rapidly warming ones. "Merlin, I've missed you!" He pulled her closer and felt the rush in her cheeks and under his hot hands. "It's murder when you're so busy."

Hermione ran her hands through his slightly longer hair, dragging her nails across his scalp. His lips blazed a trail across her face and onto her neck, leaving another mark below the slowly fading knife scar there. "And it's not like you're busy too, doing training, classes, and helping George out at the shop."

Ron pulled back from laying a multitude of desperate kisses on her face. "Floo locked?"

"Already done. Did you lock the front door?"

Ron's hands were beginning to wander under the warm bedclothes. "As soon as I came in." He pulled the sash of her robe and saw more matching lace, in the form of knickers and bra set. "Blimey, you look fucking fantastic in navy."

He ran a long finger across the scars on her chest, the old one from the Department of Mysteries and the keloid scar inflicted by the fiend on that terrible day during the War.

Hermione pulled him to her, forgetting everything else but the warmth he could give. "I need you."

"Greedy witch!"

Hermione grabbed his ears first, pulling him hard onto her lips. "Too long already. Been aching for you for days." Her hands threaded back into his hair, dragging her nails across his scalp harder this time. She felt the growl in his chest without needing to hear him. "Shut it and shag me!"

"So that's what you want, huh? Missed me that much that you're cursing like I do?" He gently bit her neck, finding his second favorite place on her body. "You need me to shag you 'til you're sore, is that it?"

Hermione pulled him onto her completely, pressing her petite frame deep into the mattress. The silk and lace on her undergarments tickled his sensitive nips but the pressure on his groin was growing painful. She didn't help matters by running her nails down his chest.

"Merlin, wench, you trying to bleed me?"

Hermione gave him a salacious wink.

Ron replied with a lop-sided grin. "Oh, is that how you want things, huh? I'll show you!"

Ron pulled her to him so he could work his hands to the clasp of her brassiere. "Sorry, Love, but this has to go." A flick of his fingers and the catch let go. He used his other hand to wrench the lace and silk from her breasts, watching them turn taut almost immediately.

"Well, 'ello hello." Ron leered at his wife. "Now, what shall I do with you tonight?" Ron moved to kneel on the bed, straddling his wife's still-thin torso. He tapped one long finger against his lips.

"Oy! Warm those hands, witch!"

Ron looked down upon his wife. She was grinning at him, her hands up his Santa Claus boxers. "I thought that was what I was doing!" She reached further into his pants and found him rather hot and ready.

"I'll show you!"

Ron leaned over further and seared her with a passionate kiss. One hand tugged at her knickers and the other pushed her hands into the headboard. "Keep them there," he growled in her ear. "I sure hope those silencing charms will hold tonight. You're gonna beg me to stop before tonight is over."

Hermione shivered in anticipation. "Promise?"

Ron stood up from the bed. His satin screened pants were shoved to the floor. "Does this give you an idea?" as he shook his hips at her.

"Happy Christmas to me," Hermione cheeked back.

Ron pounced into the bed and pressed her back into the mattress. He pushed her hands back onto the headboard. Within moments, Hermione was sprawled out on their bed with Ron comfortably nestled between her legs.

She moaned from the first moments he settled into her hips. "Too long," she muttered. "Missed you so much!"

Ron started moving, fighting the need to get lost in the shag he was sharing. "Fuckin' right it's been too long. Missed you too much!" Ron pulled her hips tight against his splayed legs. He moved with his wife and watched her breasts bounce under his actions. "Merlin, I love your tits."

Hermione tried to move her hands but Ron put them back on the headboard of their bed. "Keep'em there. Those are mine to play with tonight." Ron moved one of his hands to her chest while the other one was under her lower back. They moved in tandem while he tormented her nipples.

Hermione's back arched high off of the bed. She groaned loud enough to rattle the walls. He slowed down to let her enjoy the moment before letting her get lost in the moment a second time. She finally took a deep breath before opening her half-lidded eyes.

"Come here, please!" Hermione begged from her place on the bed. "I need more," she whined.

Ron slowed to a stop and adjusted his wife's legs. "I got one better for you." Ron worked his hands under Hermione's shoulder blades and lifted her up onto his body. "Put your feet down behind me. I got you," he whispered into her neck. "I'll hold your hips so you can snog me."

Ron twitched his hips to demonstrate his idea and her eyes went so wide. "Do that again," she groaned. Two handfuls of bum, being squeezed and kneaded in his large hands made his point. He complied and Hermione shuddered. She thrust her hands into Ron's hair while scorching his lips with a passionate kiss. "Oh, fuck!" she groaned when he swiveled his hips.

"Talk dirty to me," Ron grinned while rolling his hips and watching his wife get lost in their shared movements. "Use those words that only I get to hear. Let me see the wicked witch you are."

Hermione straightened her head up and looked at her husband through lust fogged eyes. "Bollocks!"

She watched him bury his head between her breasts, giving attention and affection on her that drove her around the twist. "That's it. Keep talking."

"It's horrible when you're gone. I have to use that charmed pillow that stays warm all night just to let me sleep." Hermione ran her hands through his hair while he continued to love her the best way he knew how. "Nothing is good as you. Now shut it and shag me like you know how."

Ron pulled his face up to her neck and gently bit his second favorite spot to feast on.

"Oh Ron!"

"Come for me, Hermione. I want you to wake the neighbors."

Hermione started moving counterpoint to his. The feeling of power from their lovemaking coursed through her veins. Each movement drove her higher. "Yes," she moaned. Her hands fell from his head to his shoulders, so she could leverage herself higher and harder onto his waiting body. "Yes!"

"Louder. Mrs. Stewart next door can't hear you." Ron's hands moved again, with one supporting her and the other moving around her sensitive body. His fingers were deft, touching her in ways only he knew.

Hermione threw her head back trying to hold on but knew the tension was going to break any second. Yet she went faster, digging her toes into the bedclothes and her short nails into his lean shoulders. She groaned a second time and tossed her head back. Another moan erupted from her.

Ron latched onto the same spot as earlier, intending to leave another love bite under the scar on her neck. He gently nipped with his teeth, feeling her clamp down on him before she roared his name.

"Bloody Hell," he growled into her neck before his hips locked. "Hermione!" he groaned in bliss.

Hermione opened her out-of-focus eyes and saw the wonder and mirth only her husband could show. "How's that?"

Ron lifted her from his now very-sore body and let her flop without dignity onto their bed. He joined her on top of the bedclothes, covered in sweat from their shared exertions. "Bloody fantastic!"

Hermione turned her head just slightly to see him still panting from next to her. "I don't think I can move."

"So don't! It's not like I'm getting up to do anything the rest of the night."

Hermione giggled and sat up on the edge of the bed. Her back and shoulders were still flushed from her exertions. Ron reached out and ran a long digit down her scar riddled shoulders. She shivered under his touch and leaned back into it.

"Back in a minute?"

"I'll be right back."

Hermione went to the loo for a moment before walking out of their bedroom. "Grab me some biscuits while you're that way, will you?"

Hermione waved her hand in reply before stepping gently into the den. She walked into the kitchen and saw the roasting pan still sitting on the table, along with the bread and turnips, carrots, and parsnips. "What did he do with the ham?" she thought to herself.

Hermione opened the oven and didn't see the ham in there. She looked in the cooling cabinet and didn't see it in there, either. "Where could it be, I reckon?"

She stole a glance at the cushioned pet bed by the fireplace. "Oh dear!"

"RON!"

Crookshanks enjoyed his dinner of ham. He didn't even mind the fussing the next morning for dragging it off the table and into his bed by the fireplace. It was one of the best meals he ever had.


End file.
